


Red isn't everything

by deliverusfromsburb



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Game Over Timeline, Pre-Relationship, Roxy Lalonde - Freeform, TLC compliant, dave strider - Freeform, sooort of, sundry others with brief speaking parts or appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:03:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8597206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliverusfromsburb/pseuds/deliverusfromsburb
Summary: A birthday present for a friend. Post-game, a series of interactions between Jane Crocker and Terezi Pyrope. Not exactly a ship fic, but a... pre-ship fic?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I literally made an ao3 account at the request of people who wanted me to post this here, which is impressive considering it requires a lengthy note to make at least some sense.  
> This fic was written as a birthday present for my roommate and co-writer and is compliant with our personal AU-verse. That AU is a Homestuck alt-ending branching off from the Game Over timeline, with considerable other nonsense happening after the split. (Most notably, for the purposes of this fic, Jane duels the Empress and wins.) If you aren't familiar with TLC/DDOTA, some stuff may be confusing. If you *have* read TLC, since this was written for my co-writer specifically, it references stuff that hasn’t happened yet, including one or two major spoilers. Finally, she likes some sort of postgame Earth setup, so that’s what I did, although anything post-victory platform isn’t official to our AU.  
> Considering the many layers of confusion here, it seems strange to put this up at all, but it was requested. Hopefully people will find some enjoyment, if not total comprehension.

Your name is Jane Crocker, and until a few months ago, you’d never met an alien. A few months ago, you’d never done a lot of things.

Now, long past your sixteenth birthday, you’ve died four times, inherited an empire, and helped create a universe. Oh, and the aliens? You live with several of them, and one in particular seems to keep crossing your path.

You volunteer to buy groceries a few weeks after the game. The others seem content to live on junk and Pizza Hut – Dirk and Roxy hail delivery as a chief accomplishment of civilization – but you’ll snap (again) if you have to eat another serving of gummy supermarket lo mein. Someone has to uphold standards here.

“Anyone want to come?” you ask, not expecting much of a reply. Venturing out into the real world is still too much for most of you, who’ve grown accustomed to rubbing elbows with a maximum of three or four others. But to your surprise, Terezi scrambles up from her place in the corner.

“I’d like to explore more of your planet,” she says. “I’ve spent enough sweeps cooped up with the same old faces.”

“We enjoyed your company too,” Karkat shoots back, without much real rancor.

She sticks her tongue out at him and bounds over. “I’ve never sampled human cuisine uncompromised by an inconvenient apocalypse.”

“You can’t actually eat it there,” you tell her hastily, imagining her attempting to bite directly into a can of ravioli. “Not unless there are free samples, but we’ll bring some home for you to try.”

The prospect of free samples turns a few heads, but eventually you arrive at the supermarket with only Terezi in tow and your father as a chauffeur. Getting your license was on your list of things to do once you turned sixteen, but so far it hasn’t been top priority.

Roxy’s done… something for all the stranger members of your household, and no one gives the gray-skinned alien a second glance as you walk into the building. Terezi, on the other hand, can’t stop looking. Or smelling, you correct yourself, remembering that her questing head is for the benefit of her nose, not her eyes. “There are so many colors,” she says. “How do you choose?”

“Brand, usually. Price, for most people, but…” You trail off, your family’s wealth and its ignoble origin a topic you prefer to avoid. “If you see something you like, bring it over.”

You’re tempted to rescind the offer once you reach the produce section. “Those apples are awful,” you say, shoving away the bag she’s brandishing. “Try Honeycrisp or Fuji.”

“But it says Red Delicious,” Terezi insists, pointing to the sign. Across the display, a produce clerk’s eyes glaze over as his waking mind overrules his better instincts. “Red _and_ delicious. That’s twice as delicious.”

“Not all advertising is true. Have you seen some of Crockercorp’s commercials?” For one thing, they claim the company is 100% American operated. “Trust me; those taste like Styrofoam.”

“You’re asking me to take a lot on faith here, Crocker,” she growls, but she puts them back.

As you select everyone’s favorite breakfast cereal, you explain how Red Delicious cultivators selected for color until all the flavor went away. “Sometimes red isn’t everything.”

She snorts and stands on tiptoe to retrieve a box of Apple Jacks you can’t quite reach. “That’s for sure.”

As a gesture of compromise, you send her to fetch some frozen pizzas – at least you can bake those at home – and then both of you ring up your purchases. The cashier, to their credit, ignores Terezi’s questions about subjects as diverse as Tic Tacs, credit cards, and (to your mortification) _Cosmopolitan_. “Ask Rose about that one,” you finally say. “I think you’d appreciate her perspective.”

Everyone descends on the food as soon as you get home, and Terezi retreats to a corner again without another word to you. But you do notice with satisfaction that she’s munching a Fuji.

 

The next time you interact, you’re walking down the hall when someone grabs you and tugs you into the bathroom. You whirl around, ready to access your strife deck. The game left all of you on edge, although you at least haven’t suplexed anyone instinctively. To avoid unfortunate decapitations, you try not to immediately pull out a weapon until you’ve assessed the situation. The carpet isn’t due to be cleaned for another few years.

This time, your captor isn’t a Dersite agent or undead underling. “Shh,” Terezi hisses, glancing around like someone might be lurking behind the shower curtain. “Close the door.”

“What do you want?” you ask sharply. The surprise hasn’t worn off, and you’re not pleased at being jumped.

She rolls her eyes and reaches past you to shove the door shut. “You own the Betty Crocker corporation, right?”

“Technically I’m not old enough to be CEO, so it’s managed by a board of trustees.” Whatever the name implies, you don’t trust people picked by the Empress. “So far I haven’t found a way to get rid of them. Have you ever considered corporate law?”

She shakes her head. “Your law is too structured. You have to play by the rules here.”

“You didn’t before?” You haven’t heard much about Alternia, only made inferences by what your alien housemates find surprising and what they consider passé. Mostly, it sounds like anarchy, worse even than the submerged wasteland Dirk and Roxy grew up in. Suitable for developing SBURB players, maybe, but not much else.

“Higher castes thought we were above the law. But justice always catches up.” It’s hard to read the expression in her flat red eyes. “Anyway, John hates Betty Crocker, or so I am told, although the actual products seem inoffensive enough. He harbored a strangely perceptive suspicion of its roots.”

“Yes, he told me. Not enough to give him a sensible aversion of Gushers, though.” The thought of those squishy, slimy candies makes you shudder. Your ecto-son is not known for his good taste. “Your point is?”

She grins. “I want to fill his room with the stuff.”

You blink. “Is this part of your alien rivalry business?”

“Might be.”

“I’ve yet to properly grasp how that works.” Roxy’s enthusiastic guide had tried to explain with charts and suits of cards, claiming she could fix your entire session’s situation with proper application of different symbols, but it never caught on. “You _want_ him angry?”

She shakes her head, unimpressed with your fumbling attempts to understand. “A proper rivalry is different than undirected anger. And I don’t even want that. Trust me, I’m in no mood for a serious kismesissitude right now. I just have to prod him until someone steps in to stop me.”

You lean against the counter. At least something in here is stable. “You’ve lost me.”

“It’s like…” She waves her hands, searching. “What’s that word Jade uses about her garden?”

“Fertilizer?”

“It’s an _ecosystem_. I get to have some fun, he gets the attention he craves, and certain other people get the satisfaction of putting the nasty troll back in her place. It works. Plus, he gets socks full of icing, and who doesn’t want that?” Her expression turns speculative, or that’s your best guess. “Not that I’m on the market, but if I were, Lalonde might be worth the effort.”

“Roxy?”

“No. The original. It’s not my fault that human family multiplied so fast.”

You’d take issue with the concept of “original”, but you’re too busy wrapping your brain around the idea of Terezi, Rose, and troll romance all in the same thought. _Can’t blame her_ , a part of your mind you’ve been mostly ignoring chimes in. You shove that away. Rose is terrifying and has a girlfriend who, although relatively mild-mannered, is also somewhat terrifying with a chainsaw in her hand. You’re not going near that. If Terezi wants to try, that’s her problem.

“So will you help me?” Terezi asks, yanking your thoughts away from the way Rose had looked soaked to the skin. You hope your blush isn’t showing.

“I suppose my stock could use a boost.”

“I’ll look into human inheritance law,” she says, and you shake on it.

 

She wanders in next while you’re watching your favorite police procedural. The television room is often disputed territory, but you’re one of the few people who actually watches episodes as they broadcast, so you’re alone. (You regret introducing everyone to _Chopped_. They took to it too much, and one day you came downstairs to find a mock competition in progress and the kitchen destroyed. John had to fly up with a scrubbing brush to clean pasta sauce off the ceiling, and the garbage disposal may never be the same.)

“What are you watching?” she asks as a commercial break comes on.

“A crime show.” The title would be meaningless to her – she’s never heard of most of the cities on the map. “You might like it. It’s much more of a personalized look at the law, the kind you thought was lacking in real life. They break the rules a lot, but they always get away with it. Do you want to watch?”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, and you wince.

“Sorry. I meant, experience? You read, right?”

“Television’s hard for me. Still images on a screen are easier.”

You frown. “Come to think of it, how _do_ you differentiate pixels by scent?”

Terezi sighs, a reaction you find unfair – it’s a reasonable question, isn’t it? “Jade and Roxy have already made the mistake of attempting to apply science to our existence. Learn from their example.”

You decide to let that one pass. “I could describe it to you.”

Now both her eyebrows rise. “Really?”

“Sure!” Secretly, you enjoy hardboiled detective lingo. You used to narrate your adventures creeping around the house with a magnifying glass, sleuthing out minor mysteries like who’d left the toilet seat up. (Your father had been a fairly compliant criminal, although you weren’t allowed to use real handcuffs.)

“I guess…” She leans on the back of the sofa, even after you pat the cushions. “What did I miss?”

Terezi “happens” to be passing by for the next several weeks of episodes, although she doesn’t deign to sit down until you place a bowl of chips on the cushion next to you as a lure. By the season finale, you’re both covered in Cheeto powder shouting criticism and suggestions at the main characters, who insist on falling for obvious ruses or indulging in petty squabbles to lead to a dramatic confrontation.

Dirk sticks his head in during the final showdown. “I heard someone yelling ‘Smite the evildoer.’ Should I be worried?”

There’s the crack of a gun from the television. Terezi jumps and swears. “Did he do it? Did he shoot her?”

“No, no,” you say. “You were supposed to think that he did, but really her partner shot the villain from behind at the last minute. Her eyes widen as she anticipates the impact of a bullet, but then her attacker collapses instead to reveal her victorious partner, pistol at the ready. It’s an overused trick, but I fall for it every time.”

“Are you narrating that to her?” Dirk asks.

“Not everyone has functioning vision spheres hidden behind ridiculous licorice spectacles,” Terezi snaps. “Now hush up, I’m sure there’s going to be a touching reunion now.”

Dirk retreats, stung by the judgment of his eyewear, and you finish the episode. “What now?” Terezi asks when the credits roll.

“Now we wait a few months until the next season.”

“What?”

“That’s how television works, or used to. I’m a bit old fashioned to be watching it as it airs. Most people watch it online now, several episodes at a time. Of course, this wasn’t the first season, and there are about a thousand crime shows out there. You’ll never run out if you don’t want to.”

“It sounds like a commitment.”

“Suitable for immortals.” Now that you’re not focusing on the screen, you see orange powder smeared all over her face. You lick your thumb and swipe at it. “Hold still. You’re a mess.”

She squirms. “Usually I’m the one getting people’s faces wet.”

“Oh hush, I’m doing it for constructive purposes. Do you want to go around everywhere looking like this?”

“Looking like what?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s all over now. You’re presentable.”

She rubs her skin thoughtfully and then leans forward and swipes her tongue up your cheek. You flinch – she’s done it to plenty of others, but this is your first time as her victim. “There. You’re clean too.”

You lean away from her. “I hardly think I made as much of a spectacle of myself.”

“Trust me, you were a picture of clementine scented overindulgence.”

“You’d think it would smell like cheese,” you grumble, and reach for the remote.

 

With the CEO’s mysterious disappearance, Crockercorp is no more nefarious than any other powerful corporation, but that’s nefarious enough. The board of trustees has long been accustomed to running things their way, bowing to the Empress’s occasional and frequently bizarre demand with the knowledge that most of the business decisions were left to them. They don’t take kindly to your disapproval, and there’s not much you can do. The company operates with its own set of bylaws and policies that tangle you up whenever you try to check whether you have any power at all until you turn eighteen. By Alternian law all of the Empress’s property ceded to you upon her surrender, but you can hardly march into the corporate headquarters and inform them that you defeated their former CEO in a duel. So instead you pass off the bylaws to Terezi, despite her protests that she doesn’t understand American corporations. The Empress had a hand in drafting these, after all, and you have a feeling the circuitous language was an attempt to baffle any other readers. It’s not about legal knowledge. It’s about persistence, and a mind that can untangle words only there to get in the way.

One day she hops up on the kitchen counter where you’re kneading bread dough. Baking helps calm you down, especially when you get to punch something without consequences. “I looked at the records you sent me,” she says, and then coughs, fanning flour away from her face. You may have been overenthusiastic. “I think you can at least dismiss trustees if you want to. The Empress built herself a lot of back doors, where she could. She may not have run the day to day operations, but she liked at least the option of absolute power.”

“Excellent.” You pick up one of the papers she’s brought with her and regret it when you leave sticky fingerprints behind. “I’m definitely firing Morrison; he keeps contracting with shady suppliers. If our partnership with Skaianet goes through, there’s no justification to cut costs that way, especially since I’m sure he and his cronies are pocketing part of the difference.” You shake your hand, trying to detach the paper now gummed onto your skin with dough. “I’ll redirect his salary to a charitable donation, or set up a new fund. That’ll send a message to the rest of them to watch their step.”

She nods and pinches a piece of dough to sample. “You’ll be well on your way to creating your own empire.”

You stiffen. Trolls have traditions, and their species existed long enough to get very set in its ways. They continue to insist that you are, by rights, leader of their race, even if that race currently consists of five. Sometimes you wonder if this by the book approach comes from the fact that no one else wants the job. None of you have traveled yet to the mothergrub’s landing site, preferring to rest, recover, and learn. A species revived by a bunch of exhausted children isn’t likely to succeed. Still, the day you reawaken them lurks somewhere in the future, a point when people will look to you for guidance. Sure, you won’t be alone, but the top of the pyramid feels exposed nonetheless. The pressure is bad enough. Worse, though, is the reminder of what happened last time you got absolute power of your own. Maybe a board of trustees isn’t a bad idea.

“Maybe I shouldn’t do this,” you say aloud.

To her credit, Terezi knows what you really mean. “What is this, the tenth time you’ve tried to wriggle out of your position, your self-righteousness? You shouldn’t have picked up the trident, then.”

“I didn’t know what it meant at the time.” You slap the papers back on the table, where they scatter, picking up flour. You feel guilty about that, but not enough to stop. “I don’t do well being handed authority. I start to believe I deserve things, that I can _take_ them.” You sigh and squeeze the dough, feeling it ooze out between your fingers. “I go bad.”

Terezi just shakes her head. “You humans, thinking you know what bad is.”

“Oh, and you know better?” you snap.

She smiles, but tighter than normal, with no teeth exposed. “I… what do they say, in those shows? I reserve the right not to testify against myself. Ask one of the others. They can tell you.” She slides down to the floor, brushing some loose flour off her shirt. “If you ask me, your trustees could use a firmer hand. But that dough might not.”

You release what’s left of it, and it plops sadly onto the table’s surface. By the time you pat it back together, Terezi has left, leaving her papers behind. You wash your hands and then put them back in order. She’s left a lot of notes, highlighting lines and referencing cases in spiky handwriting. It must’ve taken work, especially for someone unfamiliar with United States legal decisions. You never even thanked her.

Neither of you mention the dish of cookies left outside her room with a note pinned under it, but there’s an empty plate left in the hallway later, the note nowhere in sight. You take the plate back to the kitchen, run it under hot water, and wonder.

 

You select Dave as your informant of choice. Terezi tends to stick close to her travelling companions, and he seems the most approachable. Karkat and Kanaya aren’t that bad, but you’re still embarrassed about your murderous robot episode. And Rose? No, you’re definitely not asking Rose.

Terezi’s out of the house after convincing Jade to take her to the pet store to look at lizards under strict orders not to buy anything. Still, you rely on an extra level of secrecy by resorting to pesterchum.

GG: Hello!

TG: if youre looking for dirk i havent seen him for a while

GG: Actually, I was looking for you!

GG: Virtually, anyway. :B

TG: sure who isnt

TG: the ravening cyberhordes are on my digital doorstep day and night flinging bitcoins at my feet but ill bump you to the top of the queue

TG: housemate privilege

GG: That’s very generous of you.

TG: i give and fucking give thats what i tell rose

TG: might not be a bad idea to go looking for dirk though since last time i saw him he was pouring monster directly into the coffee machine

GG: Where is he getting those? I refused to keep buying them for him.

TG: maybe roxys voidifying them for him idk

TG: or he just

TG: has a stash of them somewhere

TG: sneaks out in the dead of night like reverse frat guy santa claus raiding quik marts for caffeine loaded heart attack bombs

TG: its a good thing hes god tier otherwise im pretty sure hed be dead again

GG: I’ll check on him right after this!

GG: But you didn’t try to stop him?

TG: hey energy drinks are technically above board

TG: if it was booze or rat poison i wouldve said something

TG: besides he looked wired

TG: you dont get between dirk and the stimulant he craves its like standing between a runaway ferris wheel and the hapless protagonist running in genre mandated straight lines

TG: roxy can always chloroform him if we get desperate

GG: Believe it or not, I’m actually not here to jaw about *that* dysfunctional member of our household.

TG: really

TG: that leaves the other ten plus then

GG: It’s about Terezi.

TG: if youre about to ask me to get her to stop doing whatever shes doing dont bother

TG: im a god not a miracle worker

GG: I’m only after information! She implied… that she had a checkered past, so to speak, but she didn’t want to elaborate further.

GG: Instead she suggested I speak to one of you.

TG: great

TG: isnt it a universal faux pas to drag out your exes dirty laundry

TG: start waving around a grody pair of scalemate boxers going she probably named all these fuckers lets be real here  
TG: which one do you think is senator assclown my moneys on the one with the funky polkadots

You’re familiar enough with Roxy to divert a tangent while it’s still developing.

GG: Does that mean you’d rather not talk about it?

TG: …

TG: guess you should hear it from a human

TG: dunno how karkat and kanaya would spin it

TG: culture shock theyve got orange creamsicles and will smith so you think youre the same and then

GG: Wait, they have Will Smith?

TG: troll will smith

GG: That’s the most absurd thing yet.

TG: hold that thought

TG: basically

TG: she kinda killed a bunch of people

GG: Kinda?

TG: kinda definitely

TG: troll rpgs are intense

TG: losers get fed to an assortment of monochromatic hellbeasts

TG: and you thought little league was bad

GG: You’re calling this *culture shock*??

TG: that was their normal

TG: i think she always knew it was fucked up though

TG: thats why she made up all these rules about who deserved it but eventually it bit her it always does

TG: cant make yourself arbiter of morality bro the ancient greeks tried that and look theyre all dead

TG: i am 100 percent positive there are no other contributing factors to their mortality here

TG: it was the philosophizing

TG: 4 out of 5 doctors agree and the fifth ones dead because he got a phd

TG: usually if shes brooding its the vriska thing though

TG: she doesnt get too choked up about those other poor bastards

GG: The Vriska thing?

TG: you know

TG: one of the other multicolored assholes who used to pester us before they killed each other off

TG: vriska mostly picked john to rag on for which im eternally grateful

TG: those twos nonsense is a whole damn SAGA im not getting into

TG: a tragic gay epic or something shes always cagey on the details

TG: they used to call each other sister but they dont even have those so ill be damned where they picked up the word

TG: universal translation for someone you love but want to strangle sometimes maybe

TG: anyway whatever you want to call them she had to kill her and then spent the next 3 years flipping out about it

TG: like she went on a murderbender and finally got the bill

TG: whoops didnt know it was gonna cost this much too late for a refund now

GG: That sounds… alarming. You were together once, right?

TG: we didnt talk about this much if thats what you were wondering

TG: dont want to call any seers on their bullshit unless youre prepped to have it turned back on you and i sure as hell wasnt

TG: part of the reason it went bottoms up probably

TG: but alt me overshared jade to death so theres obviously no winning in strider roulette

TG: every chambers loaded with high caliber bullshit

TG: course he keeps giving me shit for dating a serial killer like jade doesnt have a few notches on her murder belt

GG: Don’t remind me.

GG: I had a hand in that debacle.

TG: now that im thinking about it why the FUCK have so many of us killed each other honestly

TG: why are we like this

GG: Search me!

TG: clearly its not a disqualifying factor for literally anyone

TG: though jsyk I havent murdered anyone

TG: bellyflopping over the bar here while everyone else stomps it deeper into the ground

TG: can the bar itself hit rock bottom and will we still find a way to shimmy under it

GG: You still spend time together, don’t you?

TG: sure

TG: if we limited our social circles by everyone we had awkward history with theyd turn into fuckin n drangles and im not majoring in geometry to find out who my friends are

GG Fair enough. I know I have my own issues with my friends. But that doesn’t stop them from being my friends!

GG: Though it did impede our interactions for a little while.

TG: youve been hanging out a lot with her too these days

TG: thats cool

TG: she likes to fuck with peoples heads to see how they work but sometimes she has a hard time getting past that

TG: makes it hard to make friends even with a crew of understanding and radical people such as ourselves

GG: Oh, did you take over as armchair psychiatrist? Is Rose out sick?

TG: im allowed 1 introspective comment per day

TG: if anyone else tries to cash it in ill tell them i blew it on your girl problems

GG: Point them my way!

TG: will do

TG: later im gonna go see if dirk is still breathing

It’s not until after you disconnect that you think, _Girl problems?_

GG: Can I ask you a question?

GG: And can you keep it between the two of us for now?

TG: well I WAS gonna send this transcript to hal immediately for him to post on every message board he could find on the internet

TG: esp all the weird ones

TG: but ill keep it on the dl since u asked

GG: Much appreciated.

TG: speakin of TOP SECRET shiz have u seen jade and terezis illegal lizard yet

TG: hes so cute!!!! <3 <3

GG: Not yet.

GG: We’re turning into quite the menagerie, aren’t we?

TG: we dont have enuf cats yet

GG: Is there an upper bound for the amount of cats you’d like?

TG: look i have FIRSTHAND experience on how many cats is 2 many cats

TG: we are nowhere NEAR that threshold believe me

TG: but anyway

TG: wuts up

TG: must b some choice cuisine 2 dish if ur askin me 2 b miss zipperlips

TG: its not about jake again is it

TG: PLZ tell me weve gotten past the english drama

TG: bsides p sure jade will go granny rambo on ur ass if u try to start that shit again

TG: she was less scary when she was evil tbh

GG: No, no! Heavens no.

GG: I am definitely not dragging all of us through THAT again.

GG: I’ve learned my lesson.

GG: Although… you might say it’s related?

GG: But only very loosely!

TG: related

TG: ur not after jade now r u

TG: cuz shes ur ectokid thatd be gross + weird

GG: Har-de-har.

GG: So that’s the only obstacle you perceive there, then? The relation. Not…

TG: not the girly bit?

TG: jane

TG: jaaaaaaaaaaaaane

TG: is this what this is abt

TG: are we rehashing the BISIS

GG: We aren’t rehashing anything! It hasn’t been hashed a first time.

GG: The potatoes may not have even been fully harvested yet.

TG: well

TG: we r gonna prize each and every 1 of those delectable taters out of the cold hard earth if its the last thing we do

TG: federally funded lesbian farmers bringin in the latest gay harvest like they warned u about

GG: What?

TG: whoops that didnt happen 2 u

TG: greatest hits of 2016

TG: what

TG: a

TG: year

GG: You’re not being very helpful here.

TG: y dont u ask dirk

TG: hes got like

TG: a phd in gaying

TG: gayology

TG: gayometrics

TG: ive only got a masters in theoretical bi studies

TG: emphasis on the theory : (

GG: Oh, I couldn’t ask Dirk. He’d ask too many questions.

GG: Besides, his predilections might prevent him from really sympathizing with my situation.

TG: yupppp

TG: he refuses to be swayed by the loads of lovely ladies around and available

TG: his loss

TG: whereas we sensible folk prefer to keep our options OPEN

GG: This is very easy for you to say!

GG: You grew up in the future, without any…

GG: Societal pressure.

GG: Only the societal paraphernalia.

GG: I’m sure this is all old hat to you.

TG: sure sure

TG: look no offense but ur dad while being super cool + sexy is a liiiiiiiitle old fashioned

TG: w/ my turbocharged gaydar i am confident almost no1 here is scorin under a 3 on my boy kinseys scale

TG: cept maybe john who just

TG: tragically zapped off the fuckin chart al2gether along w/ the rest of reality

TG: its always the cute 1s

TG: point is it aint nbd and no1s gonna care

TG: unless u want it 2 b a bd

TG: if u arent filled the fuck up w/ dramatic self revelations by now and ready to nod sagely like a hardened action protagonist

TG: yup write that fucker up on the character sheet nxt 2 the weapon proficiencies and dead wife

TG: we could make u a cake

GG: You’re offering to make *me* a cake?

TG: i will

TG: ATTEMPT

TG: 2 make u a cake

TG: and since i will make it w/ love + care + hopefully sugar not salt this time u will b a good sport and eat it

TG: eat ur bi cake jane

TG: wait

TG: ur PANcake

TG: yeeeeeeeeaaaaahhh

GG: Sigh.

GG: I suppose it /is/ a silly thing to get hung up on after everything else that’s happened.

GG: I just assumed I’d fit within convention.

GG: That’s what I get for letting my sense of self take the path of least resistance.

GG: Like I haven’t learned THAT lesson.

TG: lmao

TG: aint nothing conventional bout u crocker

TG: but which dapper dame has ur roving eye landed on do tell????

TG: who is it

TG: do u still think my mom is hot

TG: jane

TG: jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaane

TG: jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaane

TG: im going 2 keep typing outrageously large #s of as until you answer me

TG: oh no my pinky is slipping!!!!!!

TG: its on its way like a skaia driven meteor of typographical destruction and only u can stop it

TG: jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

GG: Ok, ok!

GG: It’s sensitive, alright?

GG: …

GG: You may have noticed I’ve been spending more time with Terezi lately.

TG: ye

TG: wait

TG: o  

TG: m    

TG: G

TG: hot DAMN

TG: crocker u bad bitch id b scared 2 go after that 1

TG: did i ever tell u how she crashlanded and ran out of the flaming wreckage 2 headbutt john n then died

TG: like a BADASS

TG: kinda hot ngl

GG: Is this an attempt to be supportive?

TG: do u WANT it 2 b

TG: whats the purpose of this housecall janey

TG: do u want me 2 say the alien is bad news or tell u 2 tap that space ass ur crushin on

GG: I don’t know! Neither of those things? Anything?

GG: I don’t even know if I have a crush.

GG: Dave put the idea in my head, that’s all.

TG: did he now

TG: he COULD have been fuckin w/ u

TG: i say w/ no other evidence than that he shares my genes

TG: those bendy lil fuckers have a lot 2 answer for

GG: No, now that he mentioned it…

TG: so u DO have a crush

GG: I don’t KNOW what I feel!

GG: I don’t even know how well I know her.

GG: Sure, we’ve spent some time together.

GG: And I’ve enjoyed it!

GG: I’d like to imagine she enjoyed it as well, but it’s so hard to know for sure.

GG: She tries to hide things, to make people confused.

GG: Maybe it’s the mystery that keeps grabbing my attention.

GG: I want to figure her out!

GG: And

GG: And she *is* rather attractive.

GG: I guess.

TG: yup im diagnosing u w/ at least a stage 1 crush rn

TG: probably worse considerin u actually told me about it and ur usually a total tightass

GG: I don’t know how serious those numbers are, but I’m not committed to any course of action yet.

GG: Like I said, we’re practically strangers!  
GG: We only met a few months ago.

TG: hang on

TG: john gave me a whole speech on this while delivering the nicest rejection evr

TG: he n jake r dorky fonts of surprising wisdom sometimes

TG: u cant rly get all gung ho abt dating anyone until u know them

TG: so if u think u havent got that down yet thats step 1

TG: be her friend

TG: THEN when the time is right sweep her off her feet dramatically in front of a sunset

TG: or ask 2 hold her hand

TG: whatever works

GG: Be her friend?

TG: the data ive collected suggests most ppl at least waited a year b4 launching and promptly fucking up their romantic careers

TG: were not speed daters here evn if we r speed crash n burners

GG: That’s encouraging.

TG: hey it doesnt look like it did any permanent damage

TG: if u wanna hang out w/ her more then do it it doesnt have 2 b a federal fuckin issue

TG: go launch the ss friendship and when the time is right turn it into the submarine of stealth SEDUCTION

GG: And… how exactly do I do that?

TG: thats lesson # 2 ur not there yet

TG: like learnin the 5 touch exploding heart technique

TG: ofc u could always trust in ur instincts instead of askin 1 of the few ppl here who has never scored AT ALL in any way even w/ a dead body

GG: My instincts are often inadvisable.

TG: lmao

TG: ok lesson # 2 do not under any circumstances throw her in 2 a sex dungeon

TG: unless u ask first and shes down w/ it i guess

TG: we good????

GG: Erm.

GG: I guess so?

TG: go knock her dead

TG: in a nonfatal manner obvs

You find Terezi on the roof, knees drawn up to her chest. The roof is popular, especially those of you who can fly, but anyone can scramble up from the top floor window, especially if they don’t have to worry about looking down.

“I’m brooding,” she says when you float up. “Aren’t you supposed to respect officially scheduled brooding?”

“Only within limits, then it’s worthy of concern. Besides, I didn’t see your name on the schedule.” You pause. “Is there a schedule?”

“I refuse to limit my soulful contemplation to the parameters of some unfeeling spreadsheet,” she says haughtily.

You settle down on the shingles, wriggling to make sure you won’t slip. Flighted or no, you don’t like the sensation of falling. “I spoke with Dave.”

She rests her chin on her knees. “So you know the story.”

“A version.”

“A heavily annotated one.” She almost smirks. “I’m sure you’re clear on the basics.”

“I think so.”

“And you came up here anyway. Alone.”

You glance over at her. Despite sharing your household with a variety of extraterrestrials, she has always struck you as the most alien. Now though, it barely registers. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should be.”

You wave your hand in her direction. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just the two of us here.”

“Are you insinuating I put on a show?”

The tone makes you think you’ve scored a point. “Sometimes I wonder if you do anything else. You like to unnerve people. I’m not sure if it’s for fun or to keep them away.”

She snorts. “Don’t try to play the Seer game with me.”

“Am I wrong?”

She leans forward, grinning to expose all of her needle-sharp teeth. “Is it too late to threaten to eat your eyeballs?”

You hold your ground, although those teeth *do* look unpleasantly pointy. “I know you only do that to get a reaction.”

She settles back again, grin falling away. “But it’s an informative reaction.”

“Have you ever thought you’re leading the witness somewhat?”

“I don’t question your methods.”

“Anyway, I don’t think you’d put so much effort into brooding over past mistakes if you were villainous at heart. You wouldn’t regret it then, would you?” That’s what you’ve held on to, whenever shame threatens to swallow you whole. Shame is good. It proves you know you did wrong. Aranea, eyes alive with stolen power, remains burned into your memory as an example of interference gone awry. It’s when you think you’re doing right that you have to watch out.

Terezi sighs and pulls her knees closer. Her smaller frame, hunched up like this, looks tiny. “Why are you putting in the effort? We don’t know each other very well. You don’t have a few sweeps of neighborly responsibility hanging over your head, where you think you should sort out my life just because we shared the same meteoric lawn ring. There’s nothing in it for you.”

“I don’t know. I guess… I love my friends.” It’s something you find yourself saying a lot these days. Who are you trying to convince, or reassure? “And John is lovely. But the two of us weren’t like Dirk and Jake and Roxy looking forward to meeting their long lost family members. Roxy always talked about how eager she was to meet her mother and daughter, even if they were the same person in the end. Even if Dirk wasn’t as forthright, I knew he wanted to see his brother again. Brothers, now. And Jake remembered Jade in person! Not to mention they stayed in contact, through their letters. It’s different for them, and of course now they want to reaffirm those connections. That leaves me on the outside, sometimes. And you’re there too.” She doesn’t say anything, so you keep going – rambling now, but too uncomfortable to stop. “We’ve spent some time together, recently. I thought you might… enjoy that. We seem to have some things in common. Mysteries. Pranks.” You chew your lower lip. “Guilt.”

“You really think you’re comparable to me?”

“Guilt doesn’t measure itself that way.” No one you know doesn’t have something they regret on their conscience, even if you’d argue few measure up to what you’ve done. No one makes it through SBURB without a roster of mistakes. “Besides…I don’t have the cultural excuse. I knew it was wrong. Anyone could have told me that, and I did it anyway. And then they say they forgive me, but…”

“You’re not sure if they should, because what if they’re wrong? What if you’re still bad?”

You nod. You and Jade have spoken about this, trading fears like juggling a hot potato from hand to hand in the hopes of keeping it from burning. When you wake up in the middle of the night, terrified that you’ve somehow done something in your sleep, and wander into the kitchen to find Jade half asleep over a cup of coffee, you exchange weary smiles and convince each other to go back to bed. Who does Terezi have?

“The worst part is…” She shrugs. “I should feel worse, about all the others. I’ve lost count. You’d think you’d at least remember how many people who’ve died because of you. But I don’t have room to feel bad about those, because my mind’s too full of her. Even now, when she gave me permission to stop…”

She’s talking about Vriska, the troll you never met beyond a few strobing seconds before your sprite exploded. That left an impression, but not one that would help you now. “Are you afraid of letting her go?”

“Not just her.” Her sylladex flashes open, and she turns a disk of metal over between her fingers. “I’m not sure I know who I am without this. You can’t have just one side of a coin.”

“You had to have been, once.”

“Maybe.” She flips the circle – a troll coin you don’t recognize – and claps it between her palms before it lands. “But I don’t know how to go back.”

You think of the Jane who lived in this house almost a year ago, the Jane you find traces of sometimes when you least expect it – a post it note reminder, a recipe card, tokens of someone who no longer exists. You think of the dark circles under your friends’ eyes, the way few of them have ventured out into the world they wanted to get back to, the scars many of you now carry on your skin. But there’s also Roxy and Rose side by side annotating each other’s manuscripts, the way Jake and Jade cheer each other on whenever one dares to speak their mind, the light in Calliope’s eyes the first time she saw trees. You took damage, but as a Life player, can you deny that you grew, too? “None of us can go back.”

“Advance or advance,” she says under her breath. The words aren’t meant for you.

The sun is setting, casting orange and yellow streamers over the grass, gilding your skin and glinting off the lenses of her glasses. The trolls turned away the first time it rose, worried it would burn them. All but Terezi, who’d already been as damaged as she could be. They soon realized Earth’s sun is safe enough to let them walk outside, but she rubs her arms idly, maybe still feeling the scorching rays of the Alternian star. You hold your hand out toward her. She’s blind. She could pretend not to know it’s there. “It might be time.”

“You humans sure are stubborn,” she says. “You wouldn’t think so; your lives are so soft.”

“Tell that to all the assassins who tried to take me out as a child.”

She takes your hand and yanks, but you were expecting that. You go weightless, and her attempt to unbalance you only compromises her own position. Her seating shifts, and she yelps as she slides toward the edge. You throw your weight back, floating no longer, and stop her fall before it starts. “You’ll have to get up earlier than that to get something past me,” you tell her. “I _am_ a prankster, remember? Now, are you done with the rooftop malaise? I’m not sure it’s safe up here for you.”

“I’ve survived worse,” she says, but her grip is hard enough to make your fingers hurt, and she lets you half-guide, half-levitate her back through the window.

“Was any of your brooding conclusive?” you ask once there’s solid carpet underfoot.

She swings her arms – something you notice because she hasn’t let go yet. “Vriska told me to make sure I had lots of stories to tell, but I can’t keep stockpiling them waiting for the day I get to see her again. That’s not living at all. I think I need to make them for me. And maybe this is one of them. The start, anyway.”

“Does it have a happy ending?” you ask.

She looks at you – no, not looks, you have to keep reminding yourself of that - and the last traces of the setting sun cast shadows across her face. You’ll have to tell Roxy her advice was spot on after all. “Let’s find out.”


End file.
